


In The Dark

by Anonymous



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Abuse, Blindfolds, Breathplay, Choking, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Forced Masturbation, Forced Orgasm, Hand Jobs, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Restraints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22644058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Malcolm wakes up in a bad situation.Filled for Kink Meme:Blindfolded Mal + hurt Mal + noncon touching + maybe lowkey psychological torture, pretty please?
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Paul Lazar | John Watkins
Comments: 21
Kudos: 108
Collections: Anonymous





	In The Dark

For a second upon waking, Malcolm can’t tell if his eyes are open or closed.

He groans, trying to think through the pain in his head, and realizes there’s something tied around his head, a strip of cloth. There’s an ache in the muscles of his arms, and when he weakly pulls on them, he finds his wrists have been chained above him. His toes are barely even able to touch the floor. He shivers in the cold air, and as his senses continue to fade back in he notices a distinct lack of barrier to it. 

His clothes...are not there. He's completely naked. Blindfolded and bare, hanging from the ceiling, and not in the way he might enjoy under different circumstances. 

That would be somewhere safe.

This? 

He’s been kidnapped. John Watkins has kidnapped him, and he’s going to die. Or worse.

"Help!" he calls out finally, and then louder, " _Help me!"_

He hears no answer but a vague rumbling in the distance, his heart pounding in his ears, and then a door creaking open, footsteps on the floor. His first instinct is to try and cover himself and he winces at the twinges of pain in his already strained shoulders as he tugs on his hands.

He hears a chuckle, and it freezes him in place.

"You can scream as loud as you want," John says, his tone nothing short of malicious. "No one can hear you here. I picked it _special_ for you...for us."

"I'm flattered," Malcolm says, though his voice shakes. "Really."

"Oh?" John comes closer, the heels of his boots echoing. "That's good. Very good. Because…I'm really looking forward to spending some time with you. _Quality_ time. Just you and me." 

Malcolm manages a laugh. "Why else do you kidnap someone, right?"

John hums, slowly rounding behind him. Malcolm bites his lip and tries to keep his breathing steady. The blindfold prevents him from reading his enemy’s face, his only defense, and with it taken away it’s hard to stay calm. 

“Do you remember me, little Malcolm?”

“A broken rib is a little hard to forget,” Malcolm says. “Can’t remember much else right now, though...sorry. Head’s a little foggy.”

“Oh, yes. I’m sorry about that...and this," he murmurs, briefly touching where his punch had landed at Malcolm's hairline and making Malcolm hiss in pain. "You’re just...such a _curious_ little boy, always putting yourself where you don’t belong.”

Malcolm doesn’t like the way John is suddenly cooing his words. He likes even less the way John’s hand comes to rest on his side over his ribs, and he jerks, the chains rattling. 

“Which one did I break?” John asks, getting close enough that his breath is hot over Malcolm’s skin. “This one?”

He presses down, and then moves to the next one, and Malcolm holds his breath, thinks he’s doing well at keeping himself stoic until John’s fingers find the bone that had taken the brunt of the damage from the turnstile and push down too hard.

He gasps, and John sounds far too gleeful as he purrs, “Oh, _this_ one. You know, I just didn’t want you following me. I didn’t mean to break you...not then. But now we’re going to have fun together, and I’m going to break the rest of you, too.”

His hand slides around to rest flat on Malcolm’s stomach, and he leans closer, beard scratching against Malcolm’s shoulder. Malcolm suppresses his flinch, somehow, but his hand starts to shake above him, and the way it rattles the chain makes it impossible to hide. 

“You’re afraid?” John asks, and Malcolm shakes his head just once.

John chuckles. He rubs Malcolm’s stomach, runs the fingers of his other hand down Malcolm’s thigh, then back up, curling them around his hip. “You probably should be.”

Malcolm shakes his head again, and it’s far more to try and clear away the fear starting to cloud his mind than anything else. “What, um—Watkins. John. What do you want? Why did you take me?”

“Ssh,” John says. “We’ll get to that soon enough. I’d like to just... “ He breathes in deeply and exhales. "Really appreciate you, first."

“What, um—” Malcolm starts again, and then can’t stop himself from flinching as John slides the hand on his stomach up to his chest, starting to toy with one of his nipples. “ _Stop._ ”

“I’d _love_ to see you make me.”

Malcolm bites his lip, but can’t do much to stop his breaths from quickening. He tries to push off the floor but all he does is spin himself around, the last thing he wants. He kicks out, weakly, but he has no leverage, and the pull on his arms makes him cry out, desperately trying to balance himself out enough he can touch the floor again.

John’s hands aren’t on him anymore. Malcolm can’t see where he is, can’t hear him walking _._

“John?” he mumbles before he can stop himself, jerking his head to the side. 

A fingertip touches his nipple, and he gasps, flinches away from it, hears John huff out a quiet laugh through his nose and then loses track of him again. It terrifies him even more than the touch did to not know where the man is, to know what he plans on doing next.

No. He thinks...he _fears_ he knows what John is going to do next. He can’t think of any other reason he’d be stripped down, and he starts to tremble.

Physical pain is one thing. He can handle that. It’s nothing to him. It passes, it can be forgotten. But that…

John strokes a finger right up his spine, sends shivers through him, and Malcolm feels tears burning his eyes.

“John, we...w-we can talk,” he says. 

“We will,” John replies, to the right of him, and Malcolm twists his front away from him. “I told you. We will. But you’re so pretty, little Malcolm. I’ve stared at you for hours, and I still can’t believe it. Such a _bastard_ of a kid...and now...you look...well, you look so much like your father.”

It’s not lost to him the disturbing fact that John had been watching him while he was unconscious, but Malcolm doesn’t think it’s worth bringing up. Instead, he’s far more interested in something else. 

“My father,” he says. “I look like him?” 

John hums his agreement and strokes down his chest.

“You worked with him,” Malcolm goes on. “You admired him.” 

“Mm-hmm,” John murmurs, getting behind him again, nuzzling against his shoulder. 

“You were in love with him.”

That stops John in his tracks. He doesn’t move for a moment, and then he puts his hands on either side of Malcolm’s rib-cage and _squeezes_. 

Malcolm cries out, chokes on his gasp, and John rests his chin on Malcolm’s shoulder. 

“You should keep your mouth shut about things you don’t understand,” he says, “or I’m going to snap another bone. Maybe two.”

Malcolm tries to breathe, grimacing. So, _yes._ Good to know, although he can’t imagine how it’s going to help him. If anything, it’s confirmation that this is going to go badly.

“Okay,” Malcolm replies. “You’re in charge.”

“That’s right,” John purrs, tilting so it’s right into Malcolm’s ear. “That’s a _very_ good boy.” 

Malcolm makes a sound of disgust, trying to lean away, and John settles both hands on Malcolm’s hips again, getting right up behind him and pressing his thankfully still-clothed erection up against Malcolm’s backside. It still makes Malcolm jump, and he clenches his teeth hard.

“John,” he says. “Can you...can you take the blindfold off? So...so we can talk?” 

“You’re not a very good listener, are you?” John asks. “I said, that’s for later. Right now...my, little Malcolm...you’re...absolutely sinful, like this. Helpless. Irresistible. _Mine._ ” 

And then, to Malcolm’s despair, he reaches down and grasps Malcolm in his hand.

“No!” Malcolm says, kicking back, and though he successfully lands a blow with his heel to what he thinks is John’s shin, John does nothing but let out a soft grunt. He doesn’t let go, and Malcolm—fuck, Malcolm needs him to let go, _right now—_

“Help!” he cries, and John uses his other hand to cup the front of Malcolm’s throat, pressing down hard enough he starts to wheeze. 

“John—” he says, “please—”

“Ssh,” John says, and sinks his teeth down into Malcolm’s shoulder. “If you can’t be quiet, I’ll have to make you.”

He strokes Malcolm, just once, and starts to grind against Malcolm’s backside. Malcolm writhes, opening his mouth as he tries to drag in more air than the pressure will allow, and lets out a strangled moan, disgusted as his body reacts to it all.

John licks the wound, and then starts nipping at his neck, his ear. “Relax. You’re so pretty...it was hard not to take you right there in that tunnel. Your screams really did something to me, little Malcolm. You don’t know how long I’ve been watching you...how long I’ve wanted to just... _claim_ you. And then you came to my house. You fell right into my hands. How could I resist? You were meant for me, little one. Meant to be mine...to work with me, as God intended.”

“I won’t,” Malcolm pants, and John gives him another few strokes, bites his neck hard enough to leave a bruise and groans against his skin.

“You will,” John replies. “Mmm...you will. You’ll do what I want, because I’m going to make you mine. Look at you...you feel that? You’re so hard and wet for me, aren’t you?”

Malcolm squeezes his eyes shut, as if it matters when he can’t see anyways. It’s more to hold the tears back, but after a moment they start to seep out anyways, because he can’t stop his hips from rolling forward into the touch.

John coos happily at him. “That’s it. Just like that.” He unzips his pants and presses his cock against Malcolm’s ass, and Malcolm shrieks. 

“Oh, no...that’s for later...not yet...not now...that’s a reward you don’t deserve yet, little one.” 

Instead of entering him he rubs himself against Malcolm, pushes down harder against his throat, until Malcolm can’t get a breath at all. He tries not to panic but it only takes a few seconds for the burn in his chest to grow unbearable, and he desperately struggles.

“Ssh—almost—there,” John tells him, and he keeps pumping Malcolm with his hand, and Malcolm feels disgustingly close to a climax of his own. It shouldn’t feel good—it _doesn’t,_ it can’t. It’s just a reaction, just his body _betraying_ him. 

“Are you going to come for me, little boy?” John asks, taking his earlobe between his teeth. “Fuck...come on...come for me. You’re so close...so close...”

Malcolm gags, tilting his head back. He tries to focus on the pain in his lungs, tries to let it distract him, but John’s breath is hot against his neck, and he keeps biting down right where Malcolm is most sensitive, and—

John gasps, biting down on Malcolm again, and comes over Malcolm’s ass. The pressure on Malcolm’s throat lessens just as Malcolm’s starting to lose consciousness, just enough that Malcolm can suck in a ragged breath, and the sheer relief he feels is what sends him over the edge, and he yelps as he spills into John’s hand.

“Oh, little Malcolm,” John says, stroking him through it. “Perfect...oh, so pretty...that’s good. _Good_ boy.”

Malcolm _sobs,_ and John kisses the back of his neck, down his shoulder, and then rounds to the front of him, kisses down his throat, his chest, to his stomach, still stroking him even as he starts to moan and tries to twist away.

“Oh, my Malcolm,” he says, licking a stripe from Malcolm’s stomach back up to one of his nipples before taking it into his mouth, and Malcolm cries out. His whole body trembles, and then John pulls away again and Malcolm almost finds that worse, once again not knowing what’s going to happen next.

He thinks that even without the blindfold, he wouldn’t have been able to guess that John would press his mouth to Malcolm’s, kiss him hard and cup his chin to hold him there when he tries to flinch back. 

“We…” John says, finally releasing him, “are going to get to know each other _so_ well. I promise. You’re going to leave here...a new man.”

“I-I...I’m...y-your...new m-mission?” Malcolm manages, his teeth chattering together so hard he can barely form words, and John chuckles. 

“And you will be saved.” He blows air over the nipple still wet from his mouth, and it startles another yelp out of Malcolm, makes him shiver so hard he feels like he’s falling apart. 

“I guarantee it, little Malcolm. I’ll make _sure_ of it.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this and you
> 
> \- are 18+  
> \- ship and let ship  
> \- wanna talk about fun, whumpy, and/or 😏 stuff with other cool Prodigies
> 
> Maybe come hang out on our server [Prodigal Songbirbs 🕊️!](https://discord.gg/eQ3TK4bxn4)


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